The Shepherd's Voice (30 page)

“I’m glad we’ll be going to church again.”

He set down the fork without taking a bite. “Long as the weather holds and the roads are safe, it’s where I plan for us to be on any given Sunday.” He met her gaze. “Worshiping God with the rest of His people.”

She smiled.

“Besides”—he grinned back at her—“we need to share the good news about the baby with our friends.”

That ever-present joy welled up in her chest. “Yes,” she whispered, blinking away a blur of tears.

Gabe was silent awhile, his smile fading. “I should probably tell Hud, too.”

“Yes, you should. This is his grandchild. He should know.” She felt a flutter in her heart as she spoke the words. Not fear, precisely, but something akin to it.

“Akira?”

“Yes.”

“When I was up on the mountain … I believe the Lord warned me of trouble ahead. And it has to do with Hud.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I wish I understood more about my father.”

“God will give you understanding as you need it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Pauline stared at her reflection in the mirror. The discoloration on her left cheek was an ugly purple, much worse than it had been last night, a few hours after Hudson struck her.

Her stomach rolled at the memory, and bile burned her throat.

It had happened so quickly. He’d asked her if she’d made friends with Akira, and she’d said she had. She had smiled as she’d recalled Akira praying for her. And then all she remembered was the pain that shot through her as she was catapulted from her chair and thrown against the dining room wall. She’d never known such terror as she’d felt at that moment. No one had ever hit her before.

She gingerly touched the bruise on her cheekbone where he’d backhanded her. There was a thin red scab forming near the corner of her eye where the edge of his ring had cut her.

“God, I’m supposed to tell the truth. But if I do, I’m afraid he’ll lose control and kill me.”

Tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “I’m so afraid.”

She wished she could talk to someone, to Akira. But she couldn’t. Hudson had forbidden her to leave the house. He’d forbidden her to use the telephone. She didn’t dare defy him. Not with the mood he was in.

She rose from the stool at her dressing table and walked to the large window overlooking the valley. She could see Ransom from here, smoke curling above chimneys.

“Ransom,” she whispered.

She pressed her forehead against the cool pane of glass.

Christ gave His life as a ransom for many.

She knew so little about Jesus, but she did know He loved her, had always loved her. He’d ransomed her. No one could take that away. Not even Hudson.

The fear began to ease a little.

“Whatever else comes,” she said aloud, once again fingering her bruised cheek, “I
will
remember Your love for me.”

TWENTY-ONE

Akira sat in the kitchen, the lamp in the center of the table casting a warm circle of light onto the blank stationery. In the living room, music—and a fair share of static—played on the wireless. Gabe reclined in an overstuffed chair, his long legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. His eyes were closed, and every so often, she heard a soft whiffling snore. She found the sound oddly comforting.

She released a sigh as she glanced down at the blank sheet of paper. Then she picked up her fountain pen and began to write.

Dear Mother,

It has been far too long since I wrote to you last. There is no excuse for it, and I can only say I’m sorry. I hope this letter finds both you and Sidney in good health and fine spirits.

There is much to tell you. I scarcely know where to begin. Dundreggan sheep have done well despite the harsh drought. We lost less than 10 percent this season to disease and predators. Because of water from our spring, which thankfully has not gone dry, the hay crop should be sufficient to see us through the winter and lambing. God willing, the drought will break next year, and new grass will be available early.

Brodie Lachlan suffered an accident in midsummer. He took a nasty tumble, injuring his leg, and was on crutches for quite a spell. We hired two former millworkers, Charlie and Mark Wickham, and they helped take the band to summer range. They have proven to be excellent shepherds, and I hope they will decide to stay on with us permanently. Mr. Wickham’s wife, Nora, is living in the large cottage. You would like her. She is a very nice woman, though not in the best of health. You should see the wonderful needlework she does.

She stopped writing, sighed while tapping the butt of her pen against her chin, then pressed on.

Mother, I have wonderful news to share, and I’m certain no one will be more surprised than you when you hear what it is.

I am now a married woman. I was wed in August to Gabriel Talmadge.

She knew what Miriam Wisdom would want to know next. Was Gabe the son of the town’s wealthy founder, Hudson Talmadge? And once Akira confirmed it, her mother would be mentally counting Akira’s potential fortune.

“Forgive me, Lord,” Akira whispered. “I don’t mean to think unkindly of my mother, but You know it’s true. She cares about wealth and social standing more than anything. She was even embarrassed for anyone to know she was the daughter-in-law of Fergus Macauley, and Grandfather was the finest man I ever knew.”

Another involuntary sigh escaped her.

No doubt you remember Hudson Talmadge. Gabe is his second son.

She saw no reason to say anything more. If her mother had heard any of the scandal surrounding Max and Gabe, she would be sure to bring it up herself.

Jane Sebastian and Brodie Lachlan stood with us at our wedding. We were married at the Ransom Methodist Episcopal Church by Reverend Neville. We chose to have a simple, quiet ceremony without other guests. However, our church family has been kind to us with their congratulations and good wishes.

Akira could imagine her mother’s facial expression when she read that paragraph. A simple wedding without guests? Then what was the point of getting married at all? One was supposed to make a statement by one’s wedding.

“Oh, Mother. You and I aren’t much different than Gabe and his father, are we? Why must it be this way? Why can’t we love others the way they are instead of trying to change them into something else?”

She cringed, immediately condemned by her own question. Did she withhold love from her mother because of who Miriam was? She feared she did. At least a little. Or else she would have written this letter weeks ago.

I have saved the best news for last. God has chosen to bless Gabe and me with our first child. Our baby is due in June.

I hope you and Sidney will plan to come to Idaho for a visit around the time the baby is born. I’d like Gabe to know my mother and stepfather, and of course, we want you both to know your grandchild. I realize it isn’t easy for Sidney to get away from the city for an extended time, but please try to come for a few weeks at least.

Her pen stilled, held a hairsbreadth above the stationery. She prayed silently, then wrote:

I love you, Mother. I know we’ve had our differences, and I know I didn’t turn out the way you hoped I would. You wanted a debutante, and you got me. But where and how I choose to live doesn’t change the fact that I love you. I appreciate all you did for me. I thank you for seeing that I received a good education and for caring about my future.

Give Sidney my love too. Please write soon. And think about coming to Idaho to be with me when the baby is born.

Sincerely,
your daughter, Akira

With his eyes half-closed, Gabe observed his wife as she addressed an envelope. The tip of her pink tongue parted her lips, and her brows were drawn together in a small frown of concentration. Her hair lay in a thick braid over her left shoulder.

“How did I get so lucky?”

She looked up, her gaze meeting his.

He grinned sheepishly. He hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud.

“What did you say?” she asked.

He suspected she knew exactly what he’d said and only wanted him to repeat it. He obliged her. “How did I get so lucky?”

“There’s no such thing as luck.” She smiled. “Only God’s blessings.”

“Okay.” He rose from the chair. “How did I get so blessed?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” She laughed.

He cocked his head to one side. “You can be a contrary woman.”

“Aye.” She added a touch of brogue. “’Tis the Scot in me.”

He stepped over to the Philco and turned it off. The house was plunged into silence. Then he walked toward the kitchen table, stopping behind her chair. He placed a hand on each shoulder and began to massage her muscles.

“Mmm.” She closed her eyes. “You’re welcome to do that as long as you like.”

“Okay.” He leaned over, kissed the crown of her head, continuing to knead her neck and shoulders.

After a lengthy silence, punctuated at intervals by more of her pleasurable moans, Akira said, “I wrote to my mother. I told her about the baby.”

“Will she be glad?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “Probably.”

“I want to be a good father.”

She reached up with her right hand, covering his left one on her shoulder. Then she tilted her head to the side, holding their hand there. “You will be, Gabriel.”

He thought of Hudson. “It’s not as if I’ve got a great example to go by.” He tasted bitterness on his tongue, not liking himself for giving in to it but helpless to stop its coming. “There’ll always be somebody who’ll want to remind any child of mine that his father’s an ex-con.”

“‘There is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus,’” she quoted before twisting on her chair to face him. “We can do all things because He strengthens us. That includes raising our child to be unafraid of the darts others might fling his way.”

He caressed her cheek. “There’s a lot of shame that’ll go with being the son of a convicted murderer. People can be cruel. Especially kids. When he’s old enough to go to school —”

“Then we’ll teach him to forgive the unforgivable.”

“You make it sound easy.”

She shook her head. “I don’t mean to. I’m sure we’ll make plenty of mistakes.” She circled her arms around his neck and drew his face toward hers. “But we don’t have to repeat the ones our parents made.” She kissed him lightly.